


We could be Heroes

by JoAsakura



Series: Refuse/Refuge [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Grimdark dumpster sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:12:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7844476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the Hero short.  Jack runs into familiar trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We could be Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Look, this was supposed to be a smutty short. :sigH:

Jack staggered into the darkness, vision doubled and ears still ringing from the grenade blast. He’d made sure the little girl had scurried off to safety, he still cared that much he’d discovered to his dismay, but there was none for him. He could hear the sirens in the distance.

The SEP had done it’s job, had built him to be nearly indestructible, but he'd taken enough hits in his life and knew he had a concussion, knew his ribs were cracked, knew he was bleeding out through the gash shrapnel had torn through leather and flesh.

Jack took a step, hands dragging along the brick wall of the alleyway, trying to find his way to the old warehouse he’d hidden his gear in. Another step and he stumbled into a puddle of fetid water, sagging against the rusty bulk of a reeking dumpster. It slid, just a few inches, as he dropped to the ground with a whine.

He knew needed to get to the old warehouse he called a home for the moment, stitch up the missing chunk. He could already feel the unpleasant, cellular-level itch of his enhanced healing at work - ribs grinding like sandpaper, nerves misfiring as they re-knit themselves. He knew it, but it was easier to just try and curl around the agony in his side and not move.

Overhead, thunder growled as the first drops of warm rain began to patter from the sky, and he lifted his masked face upwards, feeling it sting against the gashes on his skin. “Fuck.” Jack rasped, letting the bulk of the pulse rifle fall next to him.

Lightning danced in the clouds overhead and the thunder snapped again. Around him, the air grew very cold, and very still, before a rush of blistering black smoke coiled around him. The air smelled like metal burning and old, wet flesh. “Rough night, Soldier?” The voice was hollow, deep, inhuman and Jack lolled his head towards the sound.

(Of. Fucking. Course.) He thought.

“Fuck you.” Jack said out loud as the figure knelt beside him, black fog blanketing the alley. He didn’t flinch as the creature pressed the barrel of an enormous shotgun against his bare forehead. “Just pull the fucking trigger, Gabriel. I’m tired.”

The gun didn’t waver, but the figure in black stiffened nonetheless. “Take off the mask, Jack.” He purred. “I want to see that face of yours before I vaporize it.”

Jack huffed a rough, bitter laugh and reached up, releasing the catch on the mask. It hissed free and fell into a rising puddle with a splash. He looked up at the wraith before him, clear blue eyes in a scarred face, silver hair plastered to his forehead as the water ran in rivulets across his skin and along the edges of the lines that marred still-handsome features.

The gun still firmly pressed against Jack's temple, metal-tipped fingers ran along the line that nearly bisected his face in a parody of tenderness, traced the lines at the corner of his unblinking eyes. Ever so gently, Reaper pressed one claw into his skin, a thin rivulet of fresh blood joining the crusting cuts that peppered his skin. "You got old, Jack." He said in a low, echoing rumble like the thunder echoing off the buildings around them. Slowly, he slid those claws along Jack's half-shaven jawline and down his throat. "I can feel your heart beating, I can see your body temperature dropping." The thick black fabric of Jack's shirt parted under the claw as easily as the skin on his cheek had. "You're not scared?"

"I'm bored." Jack lifted his chin, pressing his forehead tighter against the barrel of the gun. "And I'm tired of this shit, Gabe. You want to turn my head into meatloaf? Just get it over with."

Reaper snorted, moving his hand downwards, masked gaze never breaking contact with Jack's. Carefully, he pushed the shredded leather aside, and pressed into the bleeding gouge in Jack's side. "It's a through and through." He said absently as Jack hissed at the pain. "You've had worse." Slowly, he lifted Jack's sodden shirt, dark blood smeared against pale skin, matting the fine white hairs that ran down his belly. Gently, Reaper prodded one of the constellations of scars that crisscrossed the lines of muscle. "Huh. Was this rebar? Right through the guts."

"Geneva." Jack said softly. "I woke up in the sublevels, impaled. When I got free.. You weren't.. I couldn't find you. Everyone in the building. The ones that survived, they'd all been shot in the head. Cleanup."

Reaper was silent, as if looking for a lie in Jack's eyes. "They found me." He gave Jack a shove against the dumpster and there was a solid ring of flesh against hollow metal, the stench now completely drowned out by the heavy, choking scent of the smoke filling the alley. "They fixed me up, Jack. FIxed me right up and made a new man of me. If you..." The words trailed off. "If you hadn't..."

"You want me to say it, Gabe?" Jack's voice rose, and he gripped the barrel of Gabriel's gun with one hand. "I failed you. I failed Overwatch. I failed everyone. I'm sorry, and there's nothing I can do about it except this stupid fucking war I can't stop fighting. SO FUCKING SHOOT ME ALREADY, IF THAT WILL MAKE IT RIGHT!" He roared over the rising storm, blinking against the rain in his eyes.

Gabriel reached up and released his mask, let it drop onto the ground next to Jack's. "There's nothing that will make this better, Jackie." His voice was still hollow, but there was a warmth to it the mask had hidden. In the gloom, Gabriel's face was a shifting mess of grey and brown, skin constantly regenerating and decaying over churning black shadows. His eyes burned red in the gloom as the rain ran down his hood. "Not a fucking thing."

He let the gun drop next to Jack's rifle, and slid both clawed hands along the other man's trembling throat, the rain beating down on them. "I kept thinking, once they told me you were still alive if I killed you, maybe it would make the pain stop. But it won't."

Jack closed his hands over over Gabriel's. "I'm sorry, Gabe." He whispered, blue eyes locked firmly on burning red.

Gabriel smiled like no human thing could ever. "Are you sure you want to do this, Jack?" He growled.

Jack fisted his hands in Gabriel's coat and pulled himself hard into Gabriel's space,. The first kiss was all teeth, the taste of blood and ash on his tongue as Gabriel's claws raked down Jack's bloody shirt, shredding the heavy fabric. "I'm cold." Jack whispered.

"You're still bleeding out, you stupid son of a bitch." Gabriel snorted, dragging his teeth over over Jack's carotid, biting down lightly on the beat of Jack's pulse. His clawed hands slid down, raking through the blood, to scrape against the thick twill of Jack's pants. "In the rain."

"Then keep me warm." Jack whined against the shuddering texture of Gabriel's mouth.

Gabriel slid one hand down Jack's pants, a single, razored claw teasing the head of his cock. "Just like the old days, Jackie, isn't it? You never wanted it more than when we were asshole deep in a battlefield." Jack squirmed against him, blindly fumbling with his ammo belt as Gabriel slid the heavy fabric down Jack's narrow hips.

"Don't tell me you didn't love it, Reyes." Jack's voice was a shattered mess of pain and need, pupils wide in the darkness as Gabriel's metal fingers probed delicate skin. There was a moment, almost comical if it hadn't been for the wheeze in Jack's chest, and the rain steaming against the black fog of Gabriel's body, where they struggled with too many clothes and too much gear.

"All this shit and you can't even wear fucking body armour, you dumb fuck." Gabriel hauled Jack to his feet and shoved him against the dumpster.

Shirt torn and pants halfway down his bloodstained legs, Jack Morrison started to laugh. He was so hard, so desperate for something as his body screamed at him in a hundred different languages of discomfort. "This is how you do in your victims, Reaper, you fucking talk them to death?" The laughter died down as Gabriel bared what passed for his cock - the shifting black stuff under his skin made nearly solid, gleaming and dark. "Your dick is ferrofluid." Jack said numbly.

"Shut up." Gabriel muttered as he slammed him hard against the heavy metal box and Jack turned in the burning cloud that surrounded him, feeling Gabriel's sharp teeth on his shoulder and something heavy and impossibly slick moving inside of him. It was hot and cold and curling like nothing he'd ever felt before.

And then Gabriel started to move. There was no preamble, no gentle buildup, just a sudden, angry burst of motion and Jack cried out from the pain lancing through his side and the terrifying pleasure of whatever Gabriel had become, metal gauntlet and leather glove alike stroking his own shaft.

Against his neck, Gabriel was cursing in English, in Spanish, in the half-and-half jumble they'd always argued in. The dumpster clanged and scraped across the pavement with each strike of Jack's shoulder, like a church bell, the rain hammering down on them both.

The orgasm curled inside of him, hotter than Gabriel's alien shaft, rising up and threatening to press the air out of his lungs. His voice broke, begging for more, begging for Gabriel to end it, to end them both.

Jack came with the thunder overhead, falling into darkness as the last of the spasms shook his body.

~~  
He woke with a start, mouth full of tequila and blood. Jack gagged and rolled over on the filthy mattress to vomit on the dirty concrete floor. He coughed for a few minutes then sat up, naked under the coarse blanket. Gingerly, he prodded his side, feeling the bandage there, and he lifted up the corner.

Neat even stitches.

Jack pressed the dressing back down and dragged himself to his feet, a broken laugh catching in his throat over and over. (I stitched myself up. Just like stitching a hem. Ma would be so proud.) He thought, leaning over the chipped old sink.

There was a rattle behind him and Jack wheeled, the backup he kept taped under there in his hand in a flash. He trained it on the roiling mass of black oozing through the open space.

"Put that down before you hurt yourself." Gabriel hissed, tossing a paper sack on a rickety table, then setting two foam cups of coffee down. "And get over here and eat your fucking conchas. They're still warm. I know a place." He was wearing a hoodie and track pants, the same sooty grey-black as his coat the night before.

Jack tossed his gun on the table and sat down, propping his feet on Gabriel's lap as he snagged the bag. "Smells good."

"I have to tell you Jack, I don't know what to do here." Gabriel leaned back and sipped his coffee. "Last night did not play out like I expected. I guess I could just shoot you now."

"If you were gonna blow my head off, you could've done it while I was passed out." Jack said around a mouthful of sugar and dough. "I see you made me sew myself up, though."

"You punched me in the face, called me 'Captain Fucking Mittenfingers' " Gabriel said, the smoke rising around him to form a set a dramatic air quotes. "And then drank a half-bottle of tequila and dumped the rest on the wound before you sewed yourself up, then face planted on that shit mattress."

Jack chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "That does sound like me."

"You were always a mean drunk." Gabriel shrugged, rolling the coffee cup between his hands.

"To be fair, I had kind of a rough night, Gabe. I got blown up by a grenade and fucked up the ass by the smog monster in a dark alley." Jack said pointedly.

"Jackie. You gotta stop doing this. The people who pay my bills, next time, they'll send someone worse after you."

"You wanted me to take off my mask to see if you could kill me." Jack shoved another concha into his mouth.

"I can't." Gabriel took a sip. "As much as I thought I could, as much as I thought I wanted to, I can't." He said it matter-of-factly, but the smoke rippling showed a different emotion.

"I could use a partner." Jack said, still chewing, watching Gabriel's face.

"You could use a shower, and a meal. I can't smell or taste much anymore, but you look like a trash monster in the daylight, and you just ate a whole bag of conchas without breathing." Gabriel prodded him.

"Last night didn't turn out how I expected either." Jack said dumbly, staring into the depths of his coffee. "I don't know what to do, either Gabe. I haven't known what to do since.. Since before everything went to shit. I don't know where to go from here."

The smoke coiled fitfully around them both. "Neither do I, Jackie. Neither do I."

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
